


Why We Hide

by AcerAylo, astrophilio



Category: Hermitcraft RPF, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: #shameless self advertising, 12 bamboo?, 6 flint?, Angst, Because plot, Because that sounds fun, Dumb Trivia, Ex name is Xanthus, Gen, Halp this poor man, Have fun lol, How Do I Tag, I Tried, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I just want a good Iskall fic, Iskall is a little shit, Just wholesome friendship, Manipulation, Mentions of Violence, Military (Kinda?), Minecraft is a post-apocalyptic world, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Schedules? What Are Those?, Tags May Change, That's slowly growing, Throwaway Characters, acer can't spell, astrophilio took over the tags here, characters will be killed off sorry, corrupted government, cursing, gen z pop culture, go check out their things, idfk, iskall centric, iskall is basically a hitman, mentions of abuse, no capitalization we die like men, no plan, no shipping intended, shooty shooty bang bangs, with a team, written on a whim
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:34:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25345534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AcerAylo/pseuds/AcerAylo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/astrophilio/pseuds/astrophilio
Summary: Iskall was running.The process was simple: get in, get out, run. It had been like that since he was a greenie. And now he was running again.But this time it was different.He wasn’t running to avoid people this time.He was running to hide.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	1. Assignments

Iskall never flinched. He had learned that lesson a long time ago. If you flinched you were dead, and if you were dead, you failed. That was engraved into every recruit’s mind on the first day of training. The concept only stuck with a select few every year, though.

Iskall was part of that few.

Failure wasn’t a new concept to Iskall. He’d failed at nearly everything he had done in his childhood, reviving a new mark every time. They weren’t your standard marks either. These burned a freezing cold and blistering heat, and stayed as a reminder. They pulled ever so slightly at your energy, not enough to hurt you, but just enough to notice. 

No one ever asked about the marks, if they ever saw them. Everyone had them, and everyone hated them. Iskall, like most people, wore his government-issued jacket almost everywhere, only taking it off the wash or change. The tan fabric had a texture comparable to canvas, but it was durable and inexpensive so he wasn't complaining. His old army green jacket had long since been disregarded, given to a new recruit after he was selected. The only similar thing between the two was the Cardinal insignia embroidered on the shoulder, a requirement for every member of the organization, regardless of rank or experience.

People who were selected for the program didn’t receive basic training in the same way as the others. It was more intensive, keeping the recruits in training for hours at a time, separating them from the rest of the base at mealtimes. After training they would all be sent to the barracks, where they would talk and learn about each other. 

There were three others in Iskall's year, two boys and a girl. The first boy, Xhizyrah, had short fiery orange hair that he wore brushed to one side. He was loud and outgoing, much to Iskall’s dismay. The second boy, Xanthus, was much quieter and taller than the other, but also seemed much more aggressive. He had long white hair he had pulled back with a simple strand of fabric and strangely purple eyes. The girl, Flare, had long blonde hair she wore down, and strikingly blue eyes.

It had been her idea to sneak out and explore and, of course, they were caught. 

They had to run laps for an hour at 2 am for that.

But that was during basic training. Years ago. Since then, Iskall had been made the leader of the now dubbed ‘Special Ops Team’. They’d been sent on dozens of assignments, some going exactly to plan and others going up in flames. Didn’t matter how it ended though, because in one way or another, everyone ended up with another mark.

Which led to now.

Iskall didn’t like talking to others that much. He got along with Xanthus for the same reason. Neither of them spoke much, both much more inclined to sit in the quiet or go on an assignment than socialize with others. Oftentimes they could be seen training together, or headed to the barracks during the spare time they were given once a week. Xanthus would write stories and letters in a purple notebook, while Iskall played a small ukulele he had made from bits of scrap metal stolen from the workshops.

No one ever saw the letters Xanthus wrote, but his stories were often shared with the rest of the team if they were ever low on morale. 

A flash drive was dropped in front of Iskall, interrupting his train of thought. He caught it effortlessly in a single swipe, not letting it make a sound. He plugged it into his ID bracelet, allowing the message to appear on the hologram it produced. To the untrained eye it looked like Iskall had simply received the mess hall’s menu for the week, but Iskall had been trained for months on how to decipher codes and messages. The message was simple enough-- report to Workshop Golf.

“Spesh Ops, lets go!” Iskall called out to the rest of his team, before grabbing his headset off of his bunk. It wasn’t a complicated machine, mostly just a small earpiece and a visor that sat over his left eye. The visor didn’t bother Iskall very much. e’d gotten used to it after a week of wearing it constantly. If anything, it was useful for missions. Letting him see the mission objectives, seeing heat signatures, that sort of thing.

The walk to the workshops wasn’t very long, but people would stare at the group as they walked across base. It made sense, in all honesty. The tan jackets indicated they were part of special operations, something you could only be put into on the first day. Your average cadet wore an army green, while medics and doctors wore white jackets. Mechanics and engineers wore navy blue, and command wore black vests. 

The workshops were large buildings, around the size of airplane hangers, about eight in total. Inside mechanics and engineers would work on creating new equipment for the troops to use, as well as doing extensive research in medicine and biology. The special ops team often met in the workshops, simply because of how few people actually entered the buildings. Once equipment was designed and tested, it was sent out to command for distribution. There was no need for anyone but the mechanics and engineers to enter, making it ideal for meetings. Sure it was a bit loud, but it wasn’t very hard for someone in command to tap into the team’s headsets.

The Special Ops team entered Workshop Golf quickly and quietly, headed for the center of the building where they would receive their assignment. A man stood waiting, clipboard in hand in the center of the room. The red cardinal insignia stood out against the black of the bomber jacket. He wasn’t the only one there. A medic stood next to the man fiddling with the hem of their jacket. They had a short mop of brown hair and a thick scar across their nose. Next to the medic was an engineer, who was absentmindedly twirling a small piece of scrap in his hands. He had dull blue hair and gray eyes that stood out against his pale skin. Iskall stepped up to the command.

“Special Operations Squadron Bravo-18 reporting, **Sir!** ” Iskall announced, standing at attention. His team stood just a few inches behind him, saluting in practiced perfection.

“Understood, stand there.”

“Yes sir.”

The command nodded his head and turned to face Iskall’s team. 

“Your assignment is simple; secure the target and then get the hell out of dodge. You will be taking along medic Lance Corporal Sars Anonzal and engineer Corporal Kevin Spaks,” He gestured to the two people behind him as he spoke. “Your target is Dr. Icas Vossen. He’s been experimenting on creating mob-human hybrids. You will be given the location on the transport. Dismissed.” The commander stalked out of the room, mechanics and engineers veering out of his way. Iskall’s team stayed at attention until they heard the tell-tale sign of an entry closing, and relaxed.

Flare was the first to speak, “So, Kevin and Sars huh? What’s y’all fellers call signs?”

“Strike,” Kevin said, continuing to fiddle with his scrap as he did.

“Uh- Yeah- I’m- Um- Wizard,” Sars stuttered out.

“Cool!” Flare replied almost instantly, making the medic she was talking to jump a small bit. Iskall frowned. Anxiety was common in Cardinal, but it caused Iskall problems. In his line of work, you had to be observant and composed, lest your position be compromised. Sars was a medic, which meant he would be needed to infiltrate with the rest of the team, instead of remaining off-site with Kevin, where there would be less stress. The entire team was well versed in first-aid, but medics were sent as extra precautions in high-stake environments. Flare continued to pester the two men for the next minute before dramatically pointing at Iskall.

“Iskall over there is Radio,” She said while smiling widely. “He looks really intimidating and doesn't talk much, but he’s a big softie once you get to know him.”

“Really?” Sars asked with wide eyes.

“No, he’s more like a chill history teacher than anything, but he loves trees and plants, so that’s something.” 

Iskall just nodded.

Flare moved her hand to the man next to Iskall, “That one's Xhizyrah, but we mostly just call him Shiz. He normally has the energy of a five-year-old on a sugar high, but he’s tired or something, I guess.”

“What’s his call sign?”

Xhizyrah was the one who spoke this time, “Volley, nice to meet you Wizard.”

“Nice to meet you too, Volley.”

“That guy, over there by the wall, he’s Xanthus. He’s a jerk but his stories are really interesting so we keep him around,” she said, folding her arms.

“You also can’t get rid of me, I’m the only thing keeping you bastards from crying your eyes out every night,” Xanthus replied snarkly while holding out his hand, “Jacks, pleasure.” He held the L longer than usual, making the taller man seem annoyed. Sars sank downwards from Xanthus, but Kevin calmly shook his hand with a nod. 

Flare whipped around and stuck her thumb at herself, “And I’m Flare, my call sign’s Chronic. You’ve basically met me already, so I'll skip the details, nice to meet ya!” She said, holding her hand out. Sars shook it gently, a small smile on his face.

Iskall clapped his hands loudly, getting the attention of everyone in the room.

“Alright, now that introductions are out of the way. We leave at 03:45, current time is 20:16. You’re going to sleep for four hours and meet back here at 03:00 sharp, understood?” 

“Yes sir!”

“Dismissed. And Wizard,”

“Yes, sir?”

“Go to sleep. I don’t need a sleep deprived medic on my team.”

“Yes sir.”

Iskall walked towards the exit, falling behind the main group and next to Xanthus. The man himself was only a few inches taller than Iskall, but it was still noticeable. 

“What do you think of them?” Xanthus asked, breaking the silence. 

“Strike seems to get along fine, and as long as he can do his job I don’t think there will be any problems,” Iskall replied, staring at the group of four in front of them. “It’s Wizard I’m worried about. He seemed really jittery when introduced, and I’m concerned how his performance will be on site. I guess we can only hope for the best with him.”

“Is that why you told him to go to sleep?” Xanthus asked, arching his eyebrow.

“Yes.” Iskall replied, “I’m worried he may not sleep at all, especially with his anxiety. It seems like he hasn’t slept in a while, considering the bags under his eyes.”

“I hadn’t noticed. Was he covering it?”

“Yes. It was quite well done too. I hope this isn’t a common problem, because something tells me this assignment is slightly different than most.”

Xanthus turned to look at Iskall, “What makes you say that?” he asked.

“The command was a Lieutenant Colonel, every other command that’s given us assignments has been a Major or Captain.” They were outside by now, walking along the road as they made their way back to the barracks. There was a light fog around, and few people were out and about. It made sense, all but one of the gates closed at 21:00, and only select personnel were allowed through the one that was still open. They were about 40 yards from the barracks when Xanthus stopped walking. Iskall stopped as well, walking back to where his friend stood. In front of them was a majestic oak tree. Its branches sprawling out in every direction, creating a mesmerizing collage of colors. Spotlights illuminated its crimson leaves in the dark night, making the tree look almost angelic. A small plaque on the ground stated,

‘In loving memory of Dr. Eleanor Jayn Prahl’

“Me and my brother loved autumn,” Xanthus said quietly, almost a whisper but not quite. Iskall was almost surprised but this statement. Xanthus never talked about his personal life, not even after the three years of working together. He told them he wrote letters but that was the extent he had told them. He never sent the letters, or received any. He just wrote them. 

“Where we grew up, there weren’t any discernible seasons,” He continued, “I was cool and dark, but we never complained. Our parents treated us kindly, and as long as we stayed nearby, we could play almost any game.

“One day, our home collapsed. I was 12 at the time, my brother 14. All I can remember is heat and running. They gave me a small pocket knife, and my brother a specialized helmet. They said they would be useful, and then they said to run. And so we did. We ran and ran. We wound up in a forest far west from here. We stayed there for almost 3 years, hunting and fishing, gathering what we could. There was a small town nearby, where my brother got a job. He brought me all sorts of things, from small blocks of wood to candies from the sweet shop. I carved little figurines from stories I would create in my head, and paint them with little brushes and crushed plants. 

“My brother came back to our little shelter, about four years ago, with a flyer in his hand. It was for Cardinal enlistment. My brother suggested I join so I could help other people who needed it. Now of course, I didn’t want to leave my brother, but he insisted, saying I would be more helpful in Cardinal than in our little shelter. On my sixteenth birthday, I officially enlisted into Cardinal. My brother gave me a purple notebook that day. He said I could write down my stories and share them with the world.

Xanthus let out a small laugh before looking back at Iskall. Iskall almost gasped, instead inhaling just slightly sharper than usual. Xanthus had tears rolling down his checks, creating smooth lines across his usually purple freckles. 

“You’re probably wondering why I’m telling you this.” He said, looking back at the tree.

Iskall didn’t say anything, but he hoped just his presence was enough to answer that question. 

“I’m telling you this because if you’re right about this being different, It’s only going to get harder from here on out.”

“Where are you going with this, Xanthus?”

“If I can’t, find my brother for me, okay?” Xanthus smiled softly at Iskall, as if he were addressing a younger sibling rather than his superior. Iskall felt his heart convulse in empathy for the man. He was basically family, and it hurt to see his family in pain. So he looked Xanthus directly in the eyes, frowning.

“Corpal Ezran Xanthus ‘Jacks’ Void. You will not speak like that under any circumstances, do you understand?” 

Xanthus smiled and saluted. 

“Yes, sir.”


	2. Past Pain

Nightmares weren’t unheard of in Cardinal, and it made sense. Cardinal was effectively a branch of the military. On the books it was a company, but that just meant that there were less rules. PTSD and anxiety were common amongst the ranks, but that didn’t make them less of a problem.

Iskall himself still had nightmares about his first kill.

He had been 17 when he was sent on his first assignment. There had been a member of the embassy embezzling funds from the Treasury, and Iskall’s team had been sent out to, in the words of command, “Take care of it.” 

The transport journey had taken around 4 hours, well enough time for everyone to think about the assignment ahead. The plan was simplistic, but it had several moving parts. Half of the team was to enter through the air ducts and locate the target, while the other half posed as guards in front of the main office. After the target was secure in the office, the engineer working alongside the team would loop the camera feed and the team would take out the target. They would rendezvous four miles due east by a lake, where another transport would take them back to base.

The plan fell apart the moment they stepped onto the grounds. Someone had given a tip to their target. Both he and Flare were barely able to even step into the place before being caught.

Without the faux guards to take control, Xanthus and Xhizyrah were left stranded in the vents. After almost an hour of radio silence, the two went looking for their team. They were captured on sight.

It was another eight hours until someone from Cardinal came to retrieve Iskall and his team.

A foreign officer had blasted through the guards to Flare and Iskall’s cell, before handing them each a handgun and telling them to head for the exit. They had promptly left in search of Xanthus and Xhizyrah, leaving the two teens alone.

Flare had pulled him into the facility, half-shouting at him to move his lazy ass before they ended up dead. He’d followed behind blindly, still disoriented.

The first set of guards they encountered had to have been their age, if not younger. Flare had taken on the taller of the two, firing a round or two until eventually engaging in hand to hand combat. Iskall, on the other hand, panicked. He’d fired at point blank at the other guard, his heartbeat in his ears.

The next thing he knew, the guard was slumped against the floor, blood pooling out of their head from where Iskall had shot them. Their grey eyes were empty, devoid of any life that would have inhabited them.

Iskall had stood there in shock, things beginning to blur together. Flare had pulled him away and he’d followed blindly, simply running through the bloodbath they had created. If she said anything, he wouldn’t have heard it.

Despite his team's best efforts, Iskall had been silent and in shock the entire transport ride. He could barely hear or see anything, time blurring together.

They hadn’t been taken to the barracks as they had been after simulations. Instead, they were taken to a dark room, told to stand in the middle. While they stood there, Iskall had finally begun to regain control over his emotions. And then they were told only three words, three words that stuck with Iskall throughout the rest of his career. 

“You have failed.”

The entire team gained their first marks that day. 

Someone could’ve called it a bonding experience. Mutual pain and scars bringing the group closer.

While it did bring them closer, Iskall wouldn’t have called it a ‘bonding experience’. That phrase was a half-assed attempt to sugarcoat what it actually was.

Shared torture.

That followed Iskall everywhere he went. Everytime he closed his eyes, he saw the guards body falling to the ground, his team screaming in pain, his skin burning from the lashes.

He eventually learned to move on from the kills. Became numb to the death he brought. More missions, more hits, more marks.

The four of them often sat in their room afterwards, each buried in their own heads. Occasionally, Xanthus tried to brighten the mood with a story or a joke. For the most part though, everyone was quiet.

Slowly, the time spent reviewing their own morals in their heads shortened. The team started talking more on the transport, listening to each other’s stories and experiences. Gradually, they grew even closer. Still, somewhere they all knew that they weren’t okay.

But no one needed to know that.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> murder murder! >:) -astro
> 
> Effectively filler, new chapter will be better. ADHD is a bitch. -Acer
> 
> Team AcerAstro Out~

**Author's Note:**

> Socially Obligated Social Media Plug:
> 
> Tumblr - @AcerAylo  
> YouTube - AcerAylo
> 
> Idk what you expected


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